


jet-packing

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [142]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aromantic Meg, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Neighbors, vegetarian sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 09:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: It’s not the fact that she’s still fucking her hot neighbor after several months that bothers her. It’s that she stays the night. Falls asleep in his bed. Wakes up big-spooning the giant. Then he makes breakfast for her. Sometimes Meg even lets him kiss her goodbye at the door.It’s disgusting.





	jet-packing

The sound of birds chirping through the open bedroom window wakes her up early. Meg wants to kill them. Why doesn’t she have music on to drown them out? The sun is too bright for her black out curtains, and the bed is too firm. Tensing, Meg realizes she isn’t wrapped around a pillow but a warm, firm body. So fucking firm.

Ungh, why does she keep waking up here.

It’s not the fact that she’s still fucking her hot neighbor after several months that bothers her. It’s that she stays the night. Falls asleep in his bed. Wakes up big-spooning the giant. Then he makes breakfast for her. Sometimes Meg even lets him kiss her goodbye at the door.

It’s disgusting.

But he’s got fucking abs. Wrapping her arm tighter around his midsection, Meg splays her hand across his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch as he shifts and curls in on himself, molding his body back against her. Well, she’s about half his height, so that means one of his legs is pushed back between hers and Meg’s stomach is about where his ass is, with her face pressed to the curve of his back below the wings of his shoulder blades.

Sam is a furnace in bed, warm and soft-skinned and he smells amazing. That’s probably why Meg keeps actually falling asleep with him after sex.

Also, he’s got a monster cock. It pretty much puts her in a coma.

Lightly dragging her nails down his belly and feeling as his back swells on a breath, waking up, Meg closes her hand around his morning wood and strokes loosely.

Sam groans, curls tighter into his ball before stretching out. Reaching his arms in front of him and pushing his legs past the edge of the bed, he stretches like a cat and yawns while Meg tries to hold on. She’s got to scoot down a little to reach around him when he uncurls.

Sighing, Sam rocks his hips, perky ass rubbing against her and Meg takes her hand off his cock to meander up the rock hard muscle of his thigh around to grope his ass. Meg had watched this ass in tight running shorts pass by her kitchen window for many mornings before she figured out how to sweet talk the giant it belonged to without him blushing and hiding from her.

Rubbing her face against Sam, muscle shifting as he twists around onto his back, Meg finds herself face to face with his armpit. She pushes herself up to hover over his chest, squinting in the bright morning light. Dark hair, tangled and messy, falls over one shoulder as Meg glares at him.

“It’s too fucking bright in here. You need better curtains.”

Sam smiles at her, far too sweet for this early in the morning, and gently untangles her hair with his fingers. “We could always stay at your place, I’m-”

“No.”

Meg’s not self-conscious about the scattered piles of dirty laundry in her bedroom or the not-quite-empty mugs of coffee that grow mold on the dresser. So not self-conscious. Sam might be a neat freak, but she doesn’t care what he thinks about that. The guy could stand to leave a stray dirty sock here or there.

Sam’s smile wavers a little after her terse dismissal, and Meg rolls her eyes. “You’re too picky, I don’t have anything you’d want for breakfast.”

“I live ten feet away from your front door.”

“Why do you want to know what my bedroom looks like anyway?”

“Curiosity?”

Groaning, Meg rolls onto her back and tugs at Sam’s arm. She’s not interested in doing any of the hard work this early in the morning. Sam, obligingly, shifts up onto his knees and settles between her thighs, rocking his dick against her stomach as he reaches for the nightstand.

“I like my privacy,” Meg mumbles, biting across Sam’s toned chest and distracting him with her tongue against his nipples, “And my space.”

Shivering and grinding down harder against her every time she bites him a little harder, Sam kisses her forehead and strokes a hand along her side, “Hey, I get it. It’s cool.”

Kneeling up, Sam bites his lip as he rolls the condom on. Meg waits, stretching her arms above her, arching her back and pushing her tits up. Somehow, Sam still manages to look shy and sweet right up to the second he gets his dick inside her. Innocent, overgrown vegetarian-jogger-I-volunteer-at-the-animal-shelter Sam all big eyes and easy blushes.

But he’s a fucking animal when he gets going.

Wrapping her arms around his chest, Meg rakes her nails down his back and Sam screws into her patiently, little shoves forward and back until he can get it all inside. It’s not like Meg’s particularly tight, but that dick needs to carve out it’s own space.

Finally getting her worked open, Sam gives a shove of his hips that pushes her up off the bed and slams the frame against the wall. It quivers through her, root to tip, body clenching at the sudden shift. Meg squeezes her thighs against his waist and pulls him down so she can muffle her screams against his shoulder.

Shifting, Sam bends her in half and hooks her thighs over his shoulders, pushing her knees almost to her ears as he fucks in rougher. Soft hair just long enough to brush against her face tickles, sweat beading on his brow, and Meg closes her eyes when a few drops fall. Pushing her heels against his shoulders, toes curling, the size of him inside her pushes out any thoughts about breakfast incompatibility and commitment-phobia.

She might have trouble committing to a person, but she can commit to this dick.

It’s big enough to hurt at an angle like this, trying to rearrange her insides but Meg can’t get enough of the sharp ache of it, the overwhelming pressure, the heave of his huge body hunched over her and the weight behind his hips.

Biting deep teeth-dash crescents into the curve of his shoulder, his neck, arms locked behind his head holding him down, Meg feels dizzy and light-headed, difficult to breathe all bent out of shape like a folding chair. Sam grunts low from the back of his throat, grinds his hips flush against her as he rubs his cheek along the side of Meg’s head. Tensing and flexing, he goes still between her thighs with a gasp.

“Goddam,” Meg wheezes as Sam slowly pushes up onto his hands, then knees, pulling out of her.

Wiping the sweat off his face with the back of a hand, he’s back to the shy act, averting his eyes, neatly pulling the condom off and tying it.

Meg stretches her aching body, twists her back and rolls her ankles, yawning. She pulls Sam back down to bed.

“I gotta go for my morning run,” he mumbles.

Meg tells him, “That was worth three morning runs.”

Snuggling against her, Sam drapes an arm over her waist. He tries to get her to roll with her back to his stomach, but Meg doesn’t do small spoon. Especially with someone so big; he can fold around her like an origami box. Ungh. It makes her antsy.

Squirming, she rolls over to face Sam, nudging him into small spoon position. She likes the spot below his shoulder blades, the little dip. He smells good, even sweaty. Pressing her chest to his back, his ribs still heaving out and collapsing in with rapid breath, Meg goes back to ghosting her nails over his abs and rubbing her toes on his hairy calves.

“Are you gonna let me make you breakfast?”

Sam curls himself into a smaller ball, engulfing her forearm in one of his giant paws.

“Unghh,” Meg fakes a gagging noise, “I am not eating another one of your smoothies.”

“I’ve got eggs.”

“Any meat?”

“There’s always Morning Star breakfast patties.”

She’ll never admit it to Sam, but the vegetarian ‘sausage’ is actually pretty good.

“Yeah, fine.”

Sam yawns, rubs his sweat off on the pillow, and Meg idly teases at his nipples. Neither of them make a move for the bathroom or the kitchen. It’s a Saturday, and other than getting groceries and maybe rounding up her moldy coffee mugs, Meg hasn’t got anything planned. Breakfast can wait. A nap not even an hour after waking up sounds like a completely feasible option.

If only those goddam birds would shut up.


End file.
